A Week of Tragedy

Give a cool cup of water to someone who is thirsty, for instance. The smallest act of giving or receiving makes you a true apprentice. You won't lose out on a thing. -- Matthew 10:42

Boston on Monday and West, Texas on Wednesday -- there is a lot to be thinking about this week. How does a Christian respond to events of tragic proportions?

The first response is prayer. Even if it's just the short desperate prayer of shock and dismay -- "Oh God, please help them."  It's the prayer I pray when I see a car accident on the side of the road.  I rubberneck only long enough to say a quick prayer for everyone impacted by the accident. Sometimes the short, breathless prayers (that don't know exactly what to say) are the most powerful.  The lips don't move much but the heart is moving mountains.  Pray ... even if it's one simple line.

The second response is to grieve with those who are in pain. Our tendency is to avoid emotional pain at all costs. So we move quickly to minimize it.  This is a big mistake. Jesus said, "Blessed are those who mourn ..." (Matt.5:4).  I think he meant that those who grieve on behalf of others are blessed because they are a blessing.  Chaplains learn that there is something very powerful about "the ministry of presence."  It means just knowing that you are with me is more powerful than anything you will say.  Paul told us that we are one body, with many parts. And that all the parts belong to each other (Rom.12:4-5).  When one part of the body hurts, the rest of the body hurts with it.  Don't dismiss the collective painfulness of what has happened this week. We should all own the pain.

But grieving does more than just bring comfort to the hurting.  It also acknowledges the weight of what has happened. It stands beside people to say, "What you are experiencing is BIG."  It refuses to minimize the tragedy with theological gymnastics or trite spiritualism. "God will bring something good out of your pain," and "All things work out for the good of those who love God," may or may not be true in the long run, but in the moment they absolutely do not apply.  And when you grieve with others you recognize that their pain is real, appropriate, and hard.  And in so doing you name their suffering as sacred.

And finally ... I would look for a way to help.  It may be something very small.  A cup of cold water, Jesus said, is often much appreciated (Matt.10:42). Give blood. Send some money. Make a phone call. Volunteer at a local shelter. I have friends who jump in a truck and rush to the scene of disasters to help in courageous ways. They have been trained to do so.  And they are good at it.   I wish I could be more like them.  But we can't all rush to the scene (it would make things worse). And we can't all be that brave.  And I suspect that, in the end, what you do to help is almost irrelevant. What is important is that you do something to make the world a little better ... a little more sane.

There are weeks (like this week) when that may be the best we can hope for.